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Monday, 18 October 2010

Athena Kugblenu considers the idea of role models as an answer to the problems of Britain’s black community, in response to the REACH programme.
First published on lucidpolitics.co.uk, May 2009

Politicians argue that it’s the absence of role models that make young black men vulnerable to crime and underachievement. If this assumption is correct, the appropriate solution would be to handpick role models to inspire the youth of today to reverse this trend. The government has done exactly this via its REACH project. Twenty black men have been nominated, vetted and recruited as examples of black accomplishment.
The REACH programme places the interests of young black men at its centre. The criteria for nomination was developed from a focus group with young black men and all candidates were assessed by 70 black males aged between 14 and 25 before interview. Championed by well known successful figures including entrepreneur, Tim Campbell and couturier, Ozwald Boateng, this chosen group has been tasked to go into schools and youth projects to talk about their personal journeys. They will eventually “help to build a much larger and wider programme of mentoring work in their regions and communities and work with national and local media to support young men in raising their levels of ambition.”
The National Role Models, as they are now officially known, vary in age and profession. The oldest is a 59 year old Chief Executive, the youngest is a 25 year old accountant. And their intentions are admirable. Michael Barrington Hibbert, Director of Ogders Select says, “My main motivation is to give back to the community. I have been very fortunate to have fantastic role models in my adult life and I would like to help to inspire young black men and let them know that, no matter what setbacks life throws at you, you can achieve anything.” TV reporter and army officer, Clive Lewis adds, “I know how difficult it can be to make your way through life as a black man. My father guided me. Not everyone is as fortunate – maybe that’s where I can help.”
REACH could be what black Britain has been waiting for. The impact of a successful adult black man on a young black male is not to be underestimated. Half of black children in this country are living in a single parent household, compared to 22 per cent of the white population. The majority of these households are led by single mothers. Simon Woolley, Director of Operation Black Vote, stresses that “when black fathers in broken families play little or no role in their children’s lives, positive male role models are crucial.”
Black sportsmen, musicians and criminals grace our media screens with ease and familiarity. Black politicians, intellectuals and high ranking officials do not. We have become almost impervious to bad press, so common it is in our newspapers, televisions and magazines. We then have to negotiate state-rooted messages, such as ones from civil servants who bother to add of up the cost of every black male that has “underachieved” to British society (£800 million per year).
Bearing this in mind, the influence of black men in positions many young people never imagine themselves to be can only be in positive. Positive, most definitely, but effective?
These National Role Models are meant to show young black men a different option to a life of underachievement. By setting out such a depressing stall in the first place we’re telling our young black men of the future that they are already on that downhill slope. Low expectations can be demeaning. Professor Ann Phoenix, whose research interests include the social identities of young people, argues that black children already grow up learning through the media that their parents are in a different position to their white counterparts. By being targeted by projects like REACH, they are encouraged to see themselves as second class citizens too.
Young black men do not live in a vacuum, separate from the rest of the country, with their own TV channels, schools, youth clubs and magazines. They are absorbing the same messages as the rest of the population, including people they will be educated and employed by. If the government is going to create projects to raise aspirations of black youth, where are the projects designed to raise the expectations these individuals have of black people?
Activist and Trident advisor Claudia Webbe responded to the initial report that proposed REACH by saying, “Where [the report] fails is the way it pathologises the black community and black young people in particular, by putting the blame for discrimination on black people or black culture.”

Hazel Blears, Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government, acknowledged the role of the media by introducing REACH with a speech full of moving observations, stating at one point, “sometimes, you turn on the telly and it seems you see three kinds of black men – musicians, sportsmen, and criminals. That portrayal is patronising. It’s lazy and it’s wrong.”
It is more lazy and wrong to address the influence this skew has on black men and not the influence it has on the people around them. Guardian columnist Gary Younge is right when he says, “all too often, role-modelling takes an individual who has done well, parades them in front of a group that is not doing so well, and says: “If you try hard enough, you too can do this […], what they have not been told is that the odds are heavily stacked against them and that, from a class of 30, maybe only one will make it.” The government is encouraging black men to see past the stereotypes and misconceptions but does nothing to even the playing field to ensure they will have the same opportunities and options as their counterparts.

The next flaw is with the definition of the problem itself. REACH has bought into the same media hype it wishes to counter. Black men are over-represented in the criminal justice system but the government itself, in a low key paper admits overrepresentation needs to be kept in perspective. Three years ago, of all 10 – 17 year olds involved in reported offences 84.7 per cent classed themselves as white. Even robbery, the crime of choice among Afro-Caribbean juveniles, is not as incriminating as it seems. The report states: “Robbery offences, for which young black people are particularly overrepresented, constitute only 1.8 per cent of juvenile offending. Robbery offences committed by black young people represent less than 0.5 per cent of all offences overall.”
Black communities all over the country have their problems. In 2008, 50 of the 89 teenagers killed in Britain were young black men. But time and time again, we belittle the social conditions that create such violence by blaming it all on colour and not culture. Gang culture is not a black problem, it is a British problem.

Young black men from inner-city areas hang around in gangs. Instead of being critical of this practice we should try to understand it. The urge to bond with peers is often irresistible. Bourdieu would argue that these young men are a product of their locale and bond based on shared ‘taste cultures’ and ‘class habitus.’ If the government wants to raise the aspirations of these groups, it needs to address the problems that bring them together in the first place. Poor housing, poor schooling and unemployment are state problems that require state solutions. Until these issues are addressed initiatives like REACH are futile in these environments.
The New Nation, a weekly newspaper for black Britons, pre-empted REACH with its own list of 100 black Britons in 2007. Its editor at the time, Michael Eboda, stressed the purpose of this list. “We were sick of people telling us that African-Caribbean people weren’t getting anywhere. We were tired of seeing the usual suspects rolled out every time the role model debate hit the news, and we were bored with the idea that the only black people on the planet who were doing anything constructive all lived on the other side of the Atlantic.”

Only one sportsman made their list. Didier Drogba was listed, not because he scored 30-odd goals for Chelsea that season, but for his efforts as a peacemaker in his homeland. He is credited with having been one of the biggest influences in ending the civil war that engulfed the Ivory Coast for years.
Of course, the tabloids saw little point in promoting the efforts of an African who can kick a ball to bring peace to his homeland. When you read about Drogba, you will read about diving, wealth and form in front of goal. The problem is not the domination of black people in sports and music but the limited manner in which they are presented to us. Remember Linford ‘lunchbox’ Christie? The media strips black stars of personality and leaves them reduced to how fast they can run, how much money they earn or how much controversy they cause.
Black people excel at sports and music. This is fact. Not because we have a natural predilection, but we experience fewer barriers in these industries. This is the fault of people who stop us achieving elsewhere.
REACH want our youth to stop looking up to sports and music stars. This is a tricky message to impose on impressionable young people. REACH would be better advised to help counter the narrow-minded way in which the media presents black celebrity and instead say to young people, “look at the discipline, ingenuity and fortitude they needed to become successful.”
Only one of the twenty National Role Models is self-made; the rest are in employment in institutions and organisations which any young man from Middle England would love to be a part of. Britain is still plagued by class sickness and we are coaxing black men into the same insecurities by giving such a narrow definition of success. The acute fields from which their role models are recruited support this. They are well dressed, well paid and organisational. There are no athletes, no creatives, no low incomes and no women. Government complaining about the preponderance of a certain kind of black professional in the media only serves to undermine any positive influence they could actually have. In our efforts to portray black people in a diverse way, we should be wary of only allowing a limited group to speak on our behalf. As playwright Bola Agbaje puts it: “I don’t think that we should limit black public speakers to people who work in Parliament, law firms or in ‘professional’ jobs, because they won’t represent all of our society.”
Finally, why the obsession with black men? You are just as unlikely to see a black female in any position of intellectual or influential power in the country. Black women are more likely to be heads of single parent households and three times more likely to live in rented accommodation. Black women are also more likely to live in homes that fall below minimum standards. Where is the government initiative to address this social trend?
Several of the National Role Models cite a lack of role models available for them when they were young and impressionable. I would argue any young man being fed, housed and clothed by a hard working single mother has a role model staring them in the face. There remains the underlying English idea that if you do not escape the roots of your class you have not achieved. This explains why hard working mothers are nowhere to be seen in this REACH project, or in any other initiative that tries to raise the aspirations of black boys.
A new approach is needed. For every single parent household in this country, nine of ten are headed by a single mother. It is not good enough for young black men across the country to be allowed to use absent fathers as an excuse for failure. REACH is perpetuating an idea about the necessity of male role models that can never realistically be met. Demand outstrips supply. Unless the twenty National Role Models are planning on filing a few thousand adoption papers, it is attitudes to life in general that’s going to have to change. Noel Clarke is a screenwriter, actor and director. His face is well known. He says, “you can’t make excuses for behaviour. I am sitting here today because I focused on what I want to do. I decided to make films, not smoke weed or do bad. You have to make things happen. There’s only so much you can go ‘everyone’s against me.’ It could be the case but do something about it.”
Young people, no matter their ethnicity, will be motivated, not by other people’s dreams, but their own, provided they have a fair chance and opportunity to get there. By marking black individuals as unique or exceptional, we make their achievements even more inaccessible. The “work hard and you’ll achieve” message sits precariously in a world where black youths make up the smallest percentage in any number of institutions. Oxbridge, banking, the media, politics – the list is endless.
We shouldn’t reward successful black men with recognition. We should be critical at the organisations that made them work twice as hard to get there. Our government uses programmes like this to acknowledge black people have prejudice to overcome, but still manages to find a solution that lays the blame wholly on the door of the black communities.
Role models should not be self appointed or selected by government. They should be recognised without championing and campaigns. One of the National Role Models is a fireman. Would a young white person accept this man for inspiration? If young black people do not now know they can grow up to be firemen, the solution is not with REACH. It is with the parents, teachers and youth workers we rely on to prepare our children for a life after schooling.
We should train our children to be wary of the media and teach them how to negotiate negative messages. They should not believe everything they read and witness. We should tell them there is nothing wrong with admiring musicians and athletes, as long as they realise the profile of these individuals derive from a repertory of power intent on defining ‘blackness’ and limiting our presence in the public sphere. We should reject the notion of black solutions for black problems. Our problems are British problems that require state-led solutions more complex that REACH could ever conceive.

This keynote speech was given at this year’s Top 10 Winners Event on Role Models. It offers an intercultural perspective on positive roles models for young people from a UK and Norwegian perspective. The event was organised by the Leadership Foundation and supported by the British Council.

The three central areas covered in the talk are:
• Who are role models?
• What is their importance?
• What are some of the major challenges for role models in a multicultural society?

Who are role models?

Or phrased a different way who inspires me the most and why? For me, role models have presence, but are not always visible. We find our role models in places me do not always expect to see them. Our loyalties and aspirations are sometimes challenged, which sometimes mean we cannot outwardly speak of our role models for fear of condemnation or ridicule from the people close to us. We need role models in times of doubt in our lives… when we need to make difficult decisions in order to bridge the future. So role models do not have to be the usual suspects, nor must we see role models as perfect beings, or restrict ourselves to only one.

My Story

Before I go any further and unpack the importance and challenges of being a role model I want to dwell for a short moment on my own personal experience of finding a suitable role model in my youth before becoming a Sociologist and hopefully inspiring others to dream and achieve.

I am first generation Black British. In the 1960s my maternal grandfather came from Jamaica followed shortly afterwards by my mother (as a child), and around the same time my father on his own separate journey (as a young man) to build better futures for themselves here in the UK. Whilst I have always been surrounded by positive adults I have struggled to find the right role models. They have all had one leg in Jamaica and one leg in Britain and a mixed set of values and beliefs that did not always sit comfortably with me. They held an understandable apathy or unease towards British society.

To be ‘black’ when I was growing - just as MTV started broadcasting - was to either shelter one’s self in the Christian church or identify with a counterculture on the margins of society. Away from these two avenues there was no space for any free expression of blackness in the UK. Britishness up until the mid-80s was narrowly defined on racial terms. To be British was to be ‘white’. So I did not come across individuals that touched my soul until I reached university – most of which were dead and found only in text books or very unique and special individuals.

I found myself attracted to lecturers, critical thinkers and activists because of their passion and strength, not the course. I also found the experience of the lecture theatre exhilarating and libraries a sanctuary.

The people and space validated my day dreams, my sense of reality, my being. I studied their ideas and read their biographies, which helped me to imagine the person I am today. I remember my own slow and difficult process of becoming and the role played by role models. I never forgot this experience and carried it with me - till this day - in the hope that I can touch another person’s life for the better.

Significant adults are important to young people in their process of becoming - as resources. Young people need adults in their lives in order to model behaviour and acquire life skills and strategies. Even more so for visible minority youth who are told ‘home’ is not where they necessarily ‘belong’. This is by the tone, a certain look and even through well intended actions by members of the host community.

For instance, separate classes for children where English is not their first language in UK schools serves to alienate and hampers integration. Equally, at home where parents or legal guardians may feel suspicious of the country where they live and (un)wittingly transmit their anxieties and fears onto their children. That is part of the British experience. The outsider/within is the bind or tension many minority youth find themselves trapped in and are still expected to go out and develop reliance and make decisions in order to build liveable loves in the UK.

For any young person, regardless of their background finding positive role models is difficult but with the added burden of not feeling as if one belongs finding the ‘right’ role model becomes that bit more difficult and urgent. Do you seek out role models that reinforce and rationalise your alienation or role models that force you to deny and repress defining aspects (or anchors) of your identity in order to fit in? This is not easily answered… nor should it be.

Each person must negotiate having split loyalties and fluid and at times contradictory identities that reflect the spaces in which we inhabit. These continue to be the challenges that persist for young people in the UK today along with weariness and rage that fairness is not a reality for all.Identities are complex, yet still young people have different aspects and contours to their identities that need to be resourced to aid their personal development. For instance, attention needs to be paid to their ethnicity and ‘race’, religion, sexuality, linguistic, cultural and national identities. None of these features are fixed or essential (inherent but narratives we collectively construct and gather around as points of identification we share with others.

For example, look at the history of Norwegian national identity and its ties to Sweden we can see how national identities have shifted and are features of imagined communities defined much less by geography and genetics but constructed in our collective imaginations of who is the ‘other’ in order to help define who ‘belongs’. All groups do this.

Who are role models?

We can find anchors to our identities in our family, community and wider culture. In Britain this layering hasn’t always been straight forward or equitable. For visible minority youth, role models have featured mostly in the home due to external hostility and negative stereotyping. If we walk through the British story over the last fifty years we can see critical moments highlighting where and why positive role models have been indispensable for minority youth.

The sociocultural context in 50s Britain was marked by the post-war recovery and the call for workers from the hailing empire. They came thinking they would be welcomed! The British Nationality Act of 1948 guaranteed all colonial subjects British Citizenship. However, on the ground there was widespread hostility, mistrust and discrimination against blacks and other ethnic minority groups. The systematic ghettoization of black folks led to the Notting Hill race riots sparked by white working class youth. In this period positive role models were your peers. They were young men and women who on the surface battled-on, feed, housed and orientated new migrant workers to the UK. Has a result of the Race Riots the first race relation legislation came into force that afforded black people limited protection from discrimination.

The sociocultural context of the 60s took a drastic leap forward from the earlier decade. The pill afforded women greater freedom and control over their reproduction system, air travel for the masses meant ties with ‘home’ could be better maintained. Most alarming was the change in attitude and lack of reverence towards the British class system. This was the people’s decade! However, entertainment was the only visible sphere in which to see black people. Blackness in the UK was subversive and became one of the central counterculture reference points for youth.

Liberal (upper class) and open minded (working class) white youth gathered around signifiers of blackness. Yet, more and more black children and young people were failing in the school system and had limited job opportunities. Remember this is against the backdrop of segregation in the Southern states of America and apartheid South Africa. Role models for black youth were transmitted over pirate radio stations or captured sights of black freedom fighters on TV. However, the unshakeable renewed pride in ‘blackness’ was infectious and acts of resistance was being played out on the streets which often conflicted to what was happening at home.

The sociocultural context of the 70s was dominated by the economic downturn. Widespread industrial action, the three day working week and fuel storages destabilised British society. Appeasing voices from the right the 1971 Immigration Act slowed down the flow of immigration into the UK and stripped away former rights to citizenship. With the exception of the Partiality Act which welcomed old commonwealth citizens Britain had turned its back on the people it had previously ruled. The Act was devised on racial lines and ensured whites with connections to Britain in Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South African etc where able to return ‘home’ but not people-of-colour. The one exception was the East African Asians fleeing Uganda.

This was also the decade in which equal opportunities law was created in the UK and black and ethnic minority communities became even more inward looking. The sociocultural context in the 80s was marked by a period of rapid prosperity for the few and acute hardship and civil up-rest for many. Race riots in Brixton, Manchester, Liverpool, and Bristol typified this decade, which resulted from heavy handed treatment and harassment by police officers against Black youth. This was exacerbated by widespread discrimination in housing, education, health and employment and alienation from mainstream society. No wonder then that there were hardly any public role models available for black youth. Black people were only found in the narrow fields of sport and entertainment.

Home was a refuge. The one or two black professionals in medicine or business were labelled as sell outs as they needed to adopt the walk and talk of white Britain in order to get on. However this period did lead to reinforced race relation legislation and the coining of the term multiculturalism (e.g. respect for diversity). The sociocultural context in the 90s switched to one of hyper-consumerism. However, in the background there were new race riots but this time in Oldham (Manchester) among Asian and working class white youth. White working class from the North East of England blamed Asians for draining local resources and creating ethnic enclaves. The government saw that family elders could not or would not learn English. The young person was the interrupter and sole link to mainstream society. As a response, English language was seen as imperative criteria to settle in the UK. Without good facility of the English language Asians were seen to have self-marginalised themselves from the British way of life and economy.

In the 80s asylum seekers (or economic migrants) were seen as brave people fleeing persecution but now attitudes had shifted where asylum seekers were blamed for abusing the system. But against this context more and more positive role models could be found. Black and Asian people could be seen at all levels and in all corners of British society - if you looked hard enough. Ironically, the British national dish became curry.

The sociocultural context in the 00s can be symbolised best by reality TV, eco-politics, the expansion of the EU, international terrorism and the economic downturn. Multiculturalism is said to have failed in the British experiment. Critics of multiculturalism suggest that communities were left to fend for themselves and did not integrate well enough into the common culture. More recently, the British Government have tried to legislate for positive role models in the case of black youth (e.g. to reduce crime and raise aspiration) and Muslim youth (e.g. in the detection and prevention of extremism). The government have funded initiatives to create a national body of black role models. This is problematic and a bit naïve since there is an assumption that there are no positive role models in the lives of black youth - uncles, grandfathers and other relatives etc are ignored.

This is due to the high number of one parented households. However, if black men are not raising their own children they are often raising someone else’s. Equally troubling is how the government seek to promote moderate role models for Muslim youth to gather around. However, it is not an open and frank discussion but only ever awkwardly uttered. The problem here is with policy makers stipulating who are the ‘good Muslim’ and the ‘positive black man’ to act as role models for minority young people. It all feels a bit artificial and non-sustainable to me.

For the bulk of black and Asian youth in Britain consumerism shapes their identities and the cult of celebrity frames morality. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame. Reality TV personalities become role models overnight. This has met role models have become more ubiquitous, diverse, less about merit or talent and more about exposure and less likely to be politicised. Modern Britain is about physically de-racialising oneself and achieving immediate gratification. Almost all the young worship at the same alters – shopping malls, TV set, internet and tabloid press – and share a common cultural malaise. The flip side to all of this has been greater integration that appears to work on the surface. This is evidenced in the fastest growing group in the UK, people of mixed parentage.

To conclude, the central argument here is that young people need a range of role models to inspire them. But be cautious of role models found in social policy. Encourage young people to take personal responsibility and not to model themselves on only one individual because we all possess imperfections. The British experience illustrates how role models are an effect, cause or catalyst to external sociocultural factors, so be clear in your own mind that we need to aim for active citizenship and better futures for visible minority youth.

Last Updated ( Thursday, 27 May 2010 )

This keynote speech was given at this year’s Top 10 Winners Event on Role Models. It offers an intercultural perspective on positive roles models for young people from a UK and Norwegian perspective. The event was organised by the Leadership Foundation and supported by the British Council.
The three central areas covered in the talk are:
• Who are role models?
• What is their importance?
• What are some of the major challenges for role models in a multicultural society?
Who are role models? Or phrased a different way who inspires me the most and why? For me, role models have presence, but are not always visible. We find our role models in places me do not always expect to see them. Our loyalties and aspirations are sometimes challenged, which sometimes mean we cannot outwardly speak of our role models for fear of condemnation or ridicule from the people close to us. We need role models in times of doubt in our lives… when we need to make difficult decisions in order to bridge the future. So role models do not have to be the usual suspects, nor must we see role models as perfect beings, or restrict ourselves to only one.

My story

Before I go any further and unpack the importance and challenges of being a role model I want to dwell for a short moment on my own personal experience of finding a suitable role model in my youth before becoming a Sociologist and hopefully inspiring others to dream and achieve.
I am first generation Black British. In the 1960s my maternal grandfather came from Jamaica followed shortly afterwards by my mother (as a child), and around the same time my father on his own separate journey (as a young man) to build better futures for themselves here in the UK. Whilst I have always been surrounded by positive adults I have struggled to find the right role models. They have all had one leg in Jamaica and one leg in Britain and a mixed set of values and beliefs that did not always sit comfortably with me. They held an understandable apathy or unease towards British society. To be ‘black’ when I was growing - just as MTV started broadcasting - was to either shelter one’s self in the Christian church or identify with a counterculture on the margins of society. Away from these two avenues there was no space for any free expression of blackness in the UK. Britishness up until the mid-80s was narrowly defined on racial terms. To be British was to be ‘white’. So I did not come across individuals that touched my soul until I reached university – most of which were dead and found only in text books or very unique and special individuals.
I found myself attracted to lecturers, critical thinkers and activists because of their passion and strength, not the course. I also found the experience of the lecture theatre exhilarating and libraries a sanctuary. The people and space validated my day dreams, my sense of reality, my being. I studied their ideas and read their biographies, which helped me to imagine the person I am today. I remember my own slow and difficult process of becoming and the role played by role models. I never forgot this experience and carried it with me - till this day - in the hope that I can touch another person’s life for the better.
Significant adults are important to young people in their process of becoming - as resources. Young people need adults in their lives in order to model behaviour and acquire life skills and strategies. Even more so for visible minority youth who are told ‘home’ is not where they necessarily ‘belong’. This is by the tone, a certain look and even through well intended actions by members of the host community. For instance, separate classes for children where English is not their first language in UK schools serves to alienate and hampers integration. Equally, at home where parents or legal guardians may feel suspicious of the country where they live and (un)wittingly transmit their anxieties and fears onto their children. That is part of the British experience. The outsider/within is the bind or tension many minority youth find themselves trapped in and are still expected to go out and develop reliance and make decisions in order to build liveable loves in the UK.
For any young person, regardless of their background finding positive role models is difficult but with the added burden of not feeling as if one belongs finding the ‘right’ role model becomes that bit more difficult and urgent. Do you seek out role models that reinforce and rationalise your alienation or role models that force you to deny and repress defining aspects (or anchors) of your identity in order to fit in? This is not easily answered… nor should it be.
Each person must negotiate having split loyalties and fluid and at times contradictory identities that reflect the spaces in which we inhabit. These continue to be the challenges that persist for young people in the UK today along with weariness and rage that fairness is not a reality for all.
Identities are complex, yet still young people have different aspects and contours to their identities that need to be resourced to aid their personal development. For instance, attention needs to be paid to their ethnicity and ‘race’, religion, sexuality, linguistic, cultural and national identities. None of these features are fixed or essential (inherent but narratives we collectively construct and gather around as points of identification we share with others. For example, look at the history of Norwegian national identity and its ties to Sweden we can see how national identities have shifted and are features of imagined communities defined much less by geography and genetics but constructed in our collective imaginations of who is the ‘other’ in order to help define who ‘belongs’. All groups do this.

Who are role models?

We can find anchors to our identities in our family, community and wider culture. In Britain this layering hasn’t always been straight forward or equitable. For visible minority youth, role models have featured mostly in the home due to external hostility and negative stereotyping. If we walk through the British story over the last fifty years we can see critical moments highlighting where and why positive role models have been indispensable for minority youth.
The sociocultural context in 50s Britain was marked by the post-war recovery and the call for workers from the hailing empire. They came thinking they would be welcomed! The British Nationality Act of 1948 guaranteed all colonial subjects British Citizenship. However, on the ground there was widespread hostility, mistrust and discrimination against blacks and other ethnic minority groups. The systematic ghettoization of black folks led to the Notting Hill race riots sparked by white working class youth. In this period positive role models were your peers. They were young men and women who on the surface battled-on, feed, housed and orientated new migrant workers to the UK. Has a result of the Race Riots the first race relation legislation came into force that afforded black people limited protection from discrimination.
The sociocultural context of the 60s took a drastic leap forward from the earlier decade. The pill afforded women greater freedom and control over their reproduction system, air travel for the masses meant ties with ‘home’ could be better maintained. Most alarming was the change in attitude and lack of reverence towards the British class system. This was the people’s decade! However, entertainment was the only visible sphere in which to see black people. Blackness in the UK was subversive and became one of the central counterculture reference points for youth. Liberal (upper class) and open minded (working class) white youth gathered around signifiers of blackness. Yet, more and more black children and young people were failing in the school system and had limited job opportunities. Remember this is against the backdrop of segregation in the Southern states of America and apartheid South Africa. Role models for black youth were transmitted over pirate radio stations or captured sights of black freedom fighters on TV. However, the unshakeable renewed pride in ‘blackness’ was infectious and acts of resistance was being played out on the streets which often conflicted to what was happening at home.
The sociocultural context of the 70s was dominated by the economic downturn. Widespread industrial action, the three day working week and fuel storages destabilised British society. Appeasing voices from the right the 1971 Immigration Act slowed down the flow of immigration into the UK and stripped away former rights to citizenship. With the exception of the Partiality Act which welcomed old commonwealth citizens Britain had turned its back on the people it had previously ruled. The Act was devised on racial lines and ensured whites with connections to Britain in Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South African etc where able to return ‘home’ but not people-of-colour. The one exception was the East African Asians fleeing Uganda. This was also the decade in which equal opportunities law was created in the UK and black and ethnic minority communities became even more inward looking.
The sociocultural context in the 80s was marked by a period of rapid prosperity for the few and acute hardship and civil up-rest for many. Race riots in Brixton, Manchester, Liverpool, and Bristol typified this decade, which resulted from heavy handed treatment and harassment by police officers against Black youth. This was exacerbated by widespread discrimination in housing, education, health and employment and alienation from mainstream society. No wonder then that there were hardly any public role models available for black youth. Black people were only found in the narrow fields of sport and entertainment. Home was a refuge. The one or two black professionals in medicine or business were labelled as sell outs as they needed to adopt the walk and talk of white Britain in order to get on. However this period did lead to reinforced race relation legislation and the coining of the term multiculturalism (e.g. respect for diversity).
The sociocultural context in the 90s switched to one of hyper-consumerism. However, in the background there were new race riots but this time in Oldham (Manchester) among Asian and working class white youth. White working class from the North East of England blamed Asians for draining local resources and creating ethnic enclaves. The government saw that family elders could not or would not learn English. The young person was the interrupter and sole link to mainstream society. As a response, English language was seen as imperative criteria to settle in the UK. Without good facility of the English language Asians were seen to have self-marginalised themselves from the British way of life and economy. In the 80s asylum seekers (or economic migrants) were seen as brave people fleeing persecution but now attitudes had shifted where asylum seekers were blamed for abusing the system. But against this context more and more positive role models could be found. Black and Asian people could be seen at all levels and in all corners of British society - if you looked hard enough. Ironically, the British national dish became curry.
The sociocultural context in the 00s can be symbolised best by reality TV, eco-politics, the expansion of the EU, international terrorism and the economic downturn. Multiculturalism is said to have failed in the British experiment. Critics of multiculturalism suggest that communities were left to fend for themselves and did not integrate well enough into the common culture. More recently, the British Government have tried to legislate for positive role models in the case of black youth (e.g. to reduce crime and raise aspiration) and Muslim youth (e.g. in the detection and prevention of extremism). The government have funded initiatives to create a national body of black role models. This is problematic and a bit naïve since there is an assumption that there are no positive role models in the lives of black youth - uncles, grandfathers and other relatives etc are ignored. This is due to the high number of one parented households. However, if black men are not raising their own children they are often raising someone else’s. Equally troubling is how the government seek to promote moderate role models for Muslim youth to gather around. However, it is not an open and frank discussion but only ever awkwardly uttered. The problem here is with policy makers stipulating who are the ‘good Muslim’ and the ‘positive black man’ to act as role models for minority young people. It all feels a bit artificial and non-sustainable to me.

For the bulk of black and Asian youth in Britain consumerism shapes their identities and the cult of celebrity frames morality. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame. Reality TV personalities become role models overnight. This has met role models have become more ubiquitous, diverse, less about merit or talent and more about exposure and less likely to be politicised. Modern Britain is about physically de-racialising oneself and achieving immediate gratification. Almost all the young worship at the same alters – shopping malls, TV set, internet and tabloid press – and share a common cultural malaise. The flip side to all of this has been greater integration that appears to work on the surface. This is evidenced in the fastest growing group in the UK, people of mixed parentage.

To conclude, the central argument here is that young people need a range of role models to inspire them. But be cautious of role models found in social policy. Encourage young people to take personal responsibility and not to model themselves on only one individual because we all possess imperfections. The British experience illustrates how role models are an effect, cause or catalyst to external sociocultural factors, so be clear in your own mind that we need to aim for active citizenship and better futures for visible minority youth.

When I was growing up in south London there was a lot of talk about 'no-go areas', the streets my parents said weren't safe for black boys. They were worried about racism and potential racist attacks. When Stephen Lawrence was killed in 1993 in Eltham, less than a mile from where my younger brother went to school, their worst fears seemed justified. Now I'm the father of a young boy and wonder if their fears belonged to a different generation. Is it my own community that presents the real threat? This year there has been an unprecedented wave of teenage killings, 17 gang-related murders in London alone. In 2007 barely a fortnight has gone by without the heartbreaking news of another young life cut short after a stabbing or shooting. Most of the victims were black, and so were the perpetrators.
I still live in south London, next door to Brixton, often described as the 'heart of Britain's black community'. I love the area because it is so vibrant and diverse, but the deprivation is obvious.
There are too many tough estates and boarded-up shops; my local off-licence is designed like a prison cell, a mesh grill separates customers from staff. The notion of 'white flight', middle-class families fleeing the inner cities for better (ie whiter, more affluent areas) used to make my blood boil; now I wonder if I will be living here in 10 years' time.
Five decades of racism and social injustice have taken their toll. The statistics tell a depressing story about black male crime, unemployment, academic achievement and mental health problems. But racism is not enough to explain what is going wrong and debate within the black community is beginning to accept this. That's why Conservative candidate Shaun Bailey has become the voice of black social conservatives preaching traditional values and family cohesion. No one is going to argue against strong familial networks, but I don't think that is the right response.
There is an old African saying that 'It takes a village to raise a child'. Although the black diaspora in Britain is so broad it is hard to talk about a coherent 'black community', traditional African and Caribbean culture is characterised by large extended families, in which relatives and friends share the burden of raising children. This, indeed, was how I was raised.
It has been hard to recreate that supportive network in a strange land, though some immigrant communities have managed it successfully. There are too many fractured black families, in which fathers play little or no role in the upbringing of their children. Whether we like it or not, family separation is a fact of 21st-century life, but that doesn't have to mean children have to grow up in neglect. When I was young my father used to annoy me by saying that I would have to work much harder than my white peers to succeed. Given the struggles black boys face today, they need more support than ever before if they are to have a chance.
Over the past few years I have met a number of vulnerable boys as a mentor and then a counsellor in north London. I have seen courageous parents striving to do the best for their children in very difficult, sometimes impossible, situations.
The rise of racing driver Lewis Hamilton, a mixed-race child from separated parents, is a success story and has again sparked talk of black role models. But the dedication and talent that has led to Hamilton's Formula One victories means he is a sporting hero rather than a role model, because few children can hope to emulate him. He is a shining beacon of achievement, but black children should look closer to home for inspiration. It's not just absentee fathers who have to take more responsibility; everyone in our community has a role to play.
It is too easy to trot out the usual excuses. As distasteful as I find the misogyny and violence in some rap lyrics, it represents and, of course, glorifies unsavoury aspects of urban culture. But listening to gangsta rap doesn't send a teenager on to the streets of London looking for trouble. As widely reported last week, the pressure to join violent gangs can be intolerable, and it seems the leadership and sense of belonging they provide have enabled them to step into a dangerous vacuum at the heart of the community.
From my experience, we have to be alert to children falling foul of those peer pressures from an early age. By the time a boy has started secondary school it might be too late to divert him from the wrong path.
Recently the importance of early intervention has led to creation of Sure Start and various mentoring and role model schemes across the country. There is more understanding of how things can go wrong in a boy's life, especially during adolescence. But we have a long way to go.
This recent spate of deaths is a tragic reminder that we have plenty to do if we want to safeguard the next generation of black children. It's a shame it has taken the loss of so many young lives to get our full attention.

With the failings of African-Carribean youths taking up so much mainstream media coverage in Britain, the paternal duties of African-Caribean men are falling under much scrutiny. Doubtless they owe parental obligation to their children.

So David Cameron wants black fathers to take responsibility for their children. Speaking with The Guardian last month, the leader and self-styled Gok Wan of the Conservative Party, called for a ‘responsibility revolution’ in the black community, echoing Democratic presidential nominee Barack Obama’s controversial comments that black men who refuse to look after their offspring need to stop acting like teenagers.

In an interview to mark the end of the parliamentary year and to celebrate the Conservative’s landmark 20-point lead over the Labour Party, he said: "I think he's absolutely right. I mean I think it's a very brave thing to do. And it will have a huge influence that he has said it. I've had a number of meetings with black church leaders who make the same point. They are concerned about family breakdown and social breakdown, and want to see what I call a responsibility revolution take place."

Just exactly what this ‘revolution’ involves, how it will happen, and whether it will include absentee fathers of other races, he doesn’t say. But unlike Obama, whose comments were met with threats of castration from Jesse Jackson, Cameron’s statement was publicly lauded by several prominent members of the African-Caribbean community including education campaigner Dr. Tony Sewell and Reverend Nims Obunge of the Peace Alliance. Sewell told reporters: "This is an issue that needs to be discussed, and Cameron is well placed to discuss it."

But there’s something a bit irksome, to say the least, about a Tory leader talking to a predominantly white middle class audience about the perceived problems of the African-Caribbean working class. Problems that the punishing economic reforms pursued by his party more than twenty years ago, helped to create.

That’s not to say that there isn’t a grave problem regarding paternal responsibility within sections of the black community; when government statistics reveal that almost half of all black children are brought up in single parent families compared with 22 per cent of white children, and at a time when we are bombarded with daily reports of young black boys killing one another, that is clear for all to see.

And as what many consider to be Prime Minister-in-waiting, Cameron has every right to speak out about it. But where is black British Barack Obama or even Jesse Jackson to counter the ‘us’ vs. ‘them’-ness of his comments? For some, that the leader of the right-wing opposition should be the one to raise this issue in the mainstream does little more than to highlight the absence of a formidable black political leadership in this country.

It also says something about Cameron. In spite of his radical attempts to modernise the image of the Tory party, what with his George W. Bush-esque appointment black party members to positions of visibility, Cameron’s views on black fatherhood betray his narrow reading of the situation.

The breakdown of the family unit has affected communities across the race divide. Economics is key, and in tandem with race, it’s a corrosive partnership. In 1987, Margaret Thatcher caused shock and revulsion when she said there was no such thing as society.

But 20 years later it has come to pass. Parents forced to work longer hours to make ends meet, an education system and social service on the verge of implosion, unaffordable housing, a widening gap between the rich and the poor, and despite the best efforts of the New Labour experiment, society exists in micro-clusters. Is this a problem of black fathers or the by-product of centuries of capitalist pursuit?

Cameron says that he recognises that the discrimination and socio-economic disadvantages faced by black people need to be tackled, but followed that small concession with the comment, "at the same time we will never solve the long term problems unless people also take responsibility for their own lives."

But can an individual or even a community take responsibility for problems which they played little part in creating? Let’s not forget the historical roots of this malaise. During the days of slavery, black men on plantations in the Caribbean and Americas were literally bred to breed more slaves. Fatherhood was as foreign a concept as freedom. The dynamics of the African-Caribbean family has been overshadowed by this history. It may be in the past, but to deny its modern resonance is as dishonest as it is naïve.

The link between race, crime and bad parenting has been explicitly and consistently made. Black boys are going off the rails because their fathers aren’t around. Black girls have low self-esteem because their fathers aren’t around to value them.

What about the majority of families where the father is around? Is it really fair to judge a whole community by the actions of a sizeable minority? Are white people in Surrey judged by the knife crime in Glasgow? Of course not. Will the many strands of the black/African-Caribbean community ever be considered as more than just a homogenous, dysfunctional mass?

I think you know the answer. But until such a time all this talk of a ‘responsibility revolution’ is just that: talk. Daily Mail and Evening Standard headlines aside, most black families are already ‘responsible,’ and the ones who are not may need a little more than a public telling-off from political opportunists to become so.

We no longer live in communities. Villages no longer raise children; their peers and environment do. And if we are going talk about failed parenting, we should also talk about failed childhoods. Young people nowadays grow up quickly, aided in part by a slow procession of government legislation that, in trying to protect the child, has only served to elevate them above the adult.

If children are a reflection of their parents, then society is a reflection of its government. Fathers of all races have a doubtless responsibility to their children. But as the father of the nation, the government has a responsibility to its people.

Several themes dominate Black British literature. One important concern is Childhood, a theme that points to the overwhelming problems that Black youth face in Britain.Contemporary Black British writers take on the developmental process of growing up by writing Bildungsroman novels that treat the Black British childhood experience through such common environments as the home and school. The concern with this issue is namely concentrated among the female novelists and the pertinence of this theme is highlighted by its appearence in some of the first Black British novels. Books that deal centrally with this issue are Joan Riley's The Unbelonging (1985), Beryl Gilroy's Boy Sandwich (1989) and In Praise of Love and Children (1996) and David Dabydeen's The Intended (1990). Dabydeen's apparent autobiographical novel locates the childhood Black British experience as one many of these writers have personally experienced having grown up in Britain. This is an important point, it shows the deep concern that these writers possess, as they evidently write out of what can be termed "lived experience." It is thus natural for the realms of fiction to intersect with autobiography. Indeed, the genre of autobiography initiated Black British writing through Beryl Gilroy's Black Teacher (1976). In this novel, Gilroy gives an account of her experiences as a West Indian teacher in the London school system. She provides an important record of immigrant childhood experience, bequeathing a solid socio-historical document of the hardships that Black British immigrant children faced. Overall, these childhood novels document the trauma and hardships for the Black British child. Through comparison of the male to the female Black British childhood experience, it is shown that the female child is more traumatized because of the gender oppression which she suffers at the hands of the black male figure in her life.
An additional theme given attention is Old Age. The reality of aging for the West Indian immigrant in London is taken up with sensitivity once again by mainly the female writers. It is a fact that many West Indians intended to return to the West Indies after a few years stint in London. However the longer they remained in London, the more difficult the prospect of returning home became, especially due to economic hardships. Many returned only to face the reality that there is no return, only the reality of displacement and disconnection. Novels that treat this experience include Joan Riley's Waiting in the Twilight (1987) and Gilroy's Boy Sandwich (1989). A relational theme to old age is that of Return to the West Indies. This theme was explored by the prior generation of West Indian writers (two writers being Selvon and Salkey) and picked up by these contemporary Black British writers who document the experiences of their West Indian relatives. Most of these novels record the difficulty, sometimes impossibility, of return for the first generation immigrant. Such novels include Caryl Phillip's A State of Independence (1986), Beryl Gilroy's Boy Sandwich (1989) and Jean Buffong's Snowflakes in the Sun (1995). The complication exists in the exploration of this theme as it concerns the Black British child. However, there is no return to the West Indies, most of these Black British children have never even been to the West Indies. These novelists explore the complicating psychological factors that mistakingly make the Black British child associate the West Indies with their true home. Importantly, this need to find a surrogate home provides a powerful critique of the British society in its marginalization of the Black British child. Novels that treat this experience include Joan Riley's The Unbelonging (1985), and A Kindness to the Children (1992), Amyrl Jonhson's Sequins for a Ragged Hem (1988), Vernella Fuller's Going Back Home (1992) and Andrea Levy's Every Light in the House Burnin' (1994) and Never Far From Nowhere (1996). Andrea Levy is an important voice as one of the few Black British novelists to have been born in Britain. Most of these novelists came to Britain after birth.
Another theme is that of History and there is an overwhelming preponderence of historical fiction set in the eighteenth/nineteenth century. Many of these are set during plantation slavery times. These novelists invoke the slavery narratives of Olaudah Equiano, and Mary Prince. There is a greater point to reentering history as an open discourse. These novelists revisit and rewrite history addressing the ills associated with black historical misrepresentation. Popular is the invocation of myth and stereotyping, key factors responsible for the creation of black cultural identities. In reentering history, these writers attempt to reinscribe the character of the slave who has been effaced, mocked, objectified and marginalized by all of the chief representational discourses. These include history, anthropology, ethnology and travel narratives. Their overall intention is to provide a greater understanding of Black British history as it relates to Britain's contemporary relationship with blacks. In recasting and redesigning British historiography, these novelists lay bare the contradictions, paradoxes, ambivalences of this complex historical time. Novels that treat this theme include Dabydeen's Slave Song (1984), Coolie Odyssey (1988), Turner (1994) and The Counting House (1996), Phillip's Cambridge (1991), Fred D'Aguiar's Feeding the Ghosts, Gilroy's Inkle and Yarico (1996) amd Stedman and Joanna in Love(1992). The agenda for the female Black British writer is more complex as she tries to grapple with gender issues relating to the representation of the black female in British history. This is clearly seen in Gilroy's work which shows her attempt to empower the black slave woman with an identity quite beside a mere sexual object.
A final theme is the negations of post independance West Indies. I have separated this theme from that of return to the West Indies for some important reasons. These Black British writers are writers in the Disapora, having a past West Indian identity which they bring to bear on Britishness. Less of an issue as to whether these writers are really contemporary West Indian writers in exile or Black British writers, is the phenomenon of dialogue between these two cultural spaces. Examination reveals there to be a spectrum of possibilities and positionalities which millitate against defining these writers in absolute, oppositional, binary or dialectal nationalities bound by a singular identity of West Indian or Black British. Beryl Gilroy defines the notion of this diaspora as being "comfortable in the in-between locations." The extent of this engagement that these writers bear to the West Indian homeland is dependant on the length of time that these writers spent in their West Indian homeland before removing to Britain, the extent of their trips back as well as their desire to nurse their attachment to the West Indies or to engage in the new realities that surround them. It is possible to make claims for writers that are more attached to Black British issues and those writers who locate on the spectrum of creative in-betweenness that is closer to being a West Indian writer. Definitely most of these writers inhabit two cultural spaces and zones. This is evidenced through the examination of first works, none of these writers from 1985 write their first work set only in Britain. All of these writers begin by playing between the West Indies and Britain. There are those who write their first work on the West Indies (Jean Buffong, Merle Collins, David Dabydeen, Fred D'Aguiar, Beryl Gilroy, Amyrl Johnson and Janice Shinebourne) and those who record their first work by linking their prior West Indian homeland to Britain through immigration (Caryl Phillips and Joan Riley).
Those that function as contemporary West Indian writers explore social, economic, cultural and politica issues relating to their prior West Indian homeland. We confront their retrospective gaze of remembrance and memory. Janice Shinebourne's two novels Timepiece ( 1986) and The Last English Plantation (1988) explore the political contradictions that abound in the 1950's- 1960's in Guyana. In one of her articles she is quoted as saying: "Those terrible times in Guyana are the times in which I grew up and I am committed of necessity to write about them." Merle Collins writes two novels Angel (1987) and The Color of Forgetting (1995) on the circumstances surrounding the United States invasion of Grenada. Though Joan Riley deals with Black British issues, she writes three of her novels that engage her prior homeland of Jamaica. These books are The Unbelonging (which ends in the main character's return to Jamaica) Waiting in the Twilight (which takes us back to Jamaica through memory recollections) and A Kindness to the Children, which is actually set in Jamaica, (1992), In an interview with Aamir Hussain she explains her connection to Jamaica as being "emotionally attached." Her British identity is therefore decidely different: "I cannot leave the Caribbean. I cannot go back yet I cannot leave, its too much a part of my reality. I carry with me that space and yet I've made connections in another space and so I feel torn all the time." The most extreme case is Caryl Phillips who was brought as a baby in 1958, ( four months old) yet comes to write his first two novels about the West Indies, a process that he puts down to following the "emotional contours of his life." Unable to feel "detached about the Caribbean" he is the one of the first of this new generation to write a novel, The Final Passage (1985) and it is on West Indian post war immigration." His second novel A State Of Independence (1986) is set in the West Indies and exposes the horrors of neocolonialism as it plays itself out in inequalities and political corruption. Beryl Gilroy's first novel Frangipani House, is set in Guyana but she makes no attempt to discuss any direct political issues. Fred A'guiar states that he had to "catch up with my past by writing my way through it," and his first two collections of poetry, Mama Dot ( 1985) and Airy Hall ( 1989, celebrating his Guyanese childhood experiences. He removed to Guyana from 1962 when he was two until the age of 12. His second novel, Dear Future (1996) is also set in Guyana and he connects it to Britain through a missing mother and her three sons who relocate to Britain to carry out political unhandedness by trying to muster Guyanese immigrant votes. It is the bringing of a Guyanese identity to his British identity that leads Dabydeen to strain language to bear the weight of his cultural differences as an Indian. His recall of his past West Indian homeland necesitates the process of memory recollection: "In a winter of England's scorn/ We huddle together memories." In Coolie Odyssey he states:

We mark your memory in songs
Fleshed in the emptiness of folk
Poems that scrape bowl and bone
In English basements far from home.

He writes in Homecoming:

England where it snows and we still born brown
That I come back from to here, home
As hungry as any white man for native gold
To plant flag and to map your mind.

commented in 1991: ‘History is a contested subject…I have a daughter who teaches

in a big comprehensive in North London….lots of Irish children, lots of Afro-

Caribbean children, and lots of children from the sub-continent. And it is contested,

and it is discussed and so it should be.’ As Evans says ‘black history deserves to be

treated with scholarly rigour and care as much as white history does.’ Children in

history lessons deserve no less.

th 1997, Norman Tebbit raised the spectre of

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